medea (poem)

i will spit up my heart and make you watch.

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Medea the Sorceress by Valentine Cameron Prinsep (1838–1904)

YOU CAN CALL ME BY WHATEVER NAME YOU WANT. IT DOESN’T CHANGE THE FACT THAT EVERY THROAT I SLIT WAS FOR YOU. DO I LOOK PRETTIER WITH MY HANDS WRAPPED THE HILT OF THE BLADE? YOU ARE JUST A MAN; YOU ARE NOTHING TO A CATASTROPHE. YOU HAVE MADE ME EVERYTHING I AM. YOU HAVE MADE ME EVERYTHING I AM NOT. I AM NOT. I AM NOT.

CALL ME WITCH. CALL ME SORCERESS. CALL ME RUIN. CALL ME TOMORROW. I’D TAKE YOU BACK IF YOU DID. BUT THIS IS NOT THAT STORY AND THE BODIES ARE PILING HIGH. IN THIS ONE I AM THE VINDICTIVE VILLAINESS. IN THIS ONE I AM THE BLOOD SPLATTERED ON THE WALLS. IN THIS ONE I WILL SPIT UP MY HEART AND MAKE YOU WATCH. I WILL. I WILL.

“Medea” is featured in Mythos and Lore by Quillkeepers Press

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